Note to one of my neighbors: your son needs to wash his hands

The Monday Night Screamfest almost drove an utterly bizarre experience straight out of my mind, but fortunately I remembered it today.

So I was standing outside the car, planning my strategy for transporting a sleeping three-year-old, a sleeping infant, two diaper bags, and my purse from the car to the apartment (not as difficult as it sounds, trust me), when I heard a noise behind me. I jumped about two feet, and the voice continued...

"Look at meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I have a live birdieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

I turned around to face a young boy, perhaps seven years old. He was indeed holding a live birdie: a very uncomfortable-looking pigeon.

"I liiiiiiiiiiiiiike birds," he said.

"Oh. How nice. Bye now," I responded.

The boy and the live birdie moved on. I briefly wondered if I should be concerned about the pigeon's welfare, and decided against it. A moment later, I noticed that the live birdie had staged an escape, and was leading the boy on a merry chase.

Good times.